


Erupting Tempers

by Leonawriter



Category: Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: Arguments, Bad Weather, Breaking Up & Making Up, F/M, loss of temper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonawriter/pseuds/Leonawriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An argument gets blown up to impressive proportions, prompting May to leave in a storm of anger. And then a storm comes in, and despite her vocal wish not to speak, there’s a knock on the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erupting Tempers

“Oh, _now_ you’re being childish!”

May screamed. Truly, actually _screamed_. Loud enough that half the base could hear her. Fists clenched, she stamped her foot in frustration, eyes flashing in her anger.

“Fine. _Fine_. If you’re going to be like that, then I’m _gone._ I’m leaving, good bye! _And don’t call_.”

He called her name out angrily – but after the argument they’d just been having and her mood as it was, she wasn’t going to listen, and she _definitely_ wasn’t going to stop or turn around.

She turned heads as she stormed through the base, not looking at anyone. It wasn’t their fault their leader was – was – _so frustrating_ and seemed to know _exactly_ how to piss her off without even realising it half the time.

But she knew that if anyone cornered her, or so much as _spoke_ to her, they’d end up getting the brunt of her anger as well, and that just wasn’t fair. So she made her way, fuming, to the entrance, pokéball in hand before she even reached the water, and in no time at all she was on her Masrhtomp’s back as he took her out, swimming speedily away from everything.

He looked back at her, concerned, but she wasn’t ready to share anything yet. She could only pat his head to reassure him that she was all right. Even if… maybe she wasn’t. Not really.

A minute was spent on the Lilycove beach as she composed herself further before calling out her Swellow to take her, for the first time in what felt like weeks, _home_.

She hadn’t taken to flying like a natural. Her first time had been spent with Winona practically holding her hand as May had been scared that she’d fall off, just as she’d held on tight to Steven when Latios had taken them to where its friend was. But eventually she’d caught the hang of it, helped by the fact that she knew that no one in her team would ever let her fall.

She barely noticed the sights as she flew above them on the way. Or the way that the clouds were darkening. All she focused on was avoiding the flocks of Taillow, Swablu and Murkrow that passed by occasionally and keeping on course, at the right altitude, and staying on.

It was nightfall by the time she got home, and even if it hadn’t been, the overcast clouds would have made it so. The first few drops of rain had started to damp her hair by the time she reached the door to her house, her Swellow back in its Pokeball.

Her mother instantly caught on that something was wrong, asking what the matter was, what had happened – she hadn’t seen her daughter home in ages and now it’s just in time for a storm – but she didn’t know how to get the words out.

It was complicated. She couldn’t figure it all out herself. She didn’t know what to feel. She was angry, tired, frustrated, disappointed, as well as several other things she either couldn’t name or didn’t want to.

So she just shook her head, and took off her shoes.

“Just – if anyone comes by. Anyone in _red_. Tell them I _don’t want to talk_. Because I don’t. I just. Can’t deal with it right now. Thanks.”

She collapsed on her bed, feeling keenly for the first time since she’d left after receiving her Mudkip from Professor Birch how little time she spent at home.

She’d thought things would be different here. She’d thought that her dad would spend more time with them, and they could be a family again, like when they’d been little and he’d first taught her about battles. She’d thought maybe she’d make new friends, and she had… but at the same time, everyone kept trying to keep up with or overtake each other, to the point where she just wanted things to, sometimes, not be about who was _best_.

She’d thought that, maybe, things would be simpler. There’d been people she’d liked back in Johto, people she’d gone out with, some people she wished she’d never see again.

Part of her now hoped she’d never see Maxie again. Part of her hated him for the things he’d said, and she was left wondering – was this how it was always going to be? Would he always somehow revert to type and act like that at times?

The rest was just miserable, wondering, thinking that if something had gone differently, she wouldn’t be here now and things would be okay, and all would be good still with the world.

It wasn’t, though. You couldn’t change the past, and this was what she was left with.

It was stupid. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ And she didn’t even realise that she was crying until the Skitty that now normally lived with her mother jumped onto her bed and started pawing at her face, curling up next to her chest.

…

That evening was spent quietly. Her mother made dinner for two, and May wondered why she’d even thought that it might have been for three. There was a call, though – the storm was bad, and they needed him in Petalburg.

In May’s eyes it was nothing that the townspeople couldn’t do without him, but at the same time she realised that it likely had nothing to do with that. Similar to how people looked up to her now as Champion and how Wally had been able to catch his Ralts only because she’d been there… Norman Maple was someone people believed in.

A traitorous part of her brain threw the thought that there was someone _else_ that could describe, but she squashed it before it could ruin the taste of her food.

The next day dawned and although the winds had abated a little, the rain had not.  There were spells when it came down in showers rather than torrents, but it still didn’t stop, leaving any unpaved path sodden and muddy.

There was a knock on the door around the middle of the day, and despite expecting to have to turn them away, she was told instead that it was Brendan, who’d heard that she was back home for the time being, and had just wanted to catch up, which was just about enough to get her to emerge from her room.

“Hey, May! I thought I’d pop by while the rain eased off for a bit – are you okay? You look… rough.”

She shrugged. She was still in her pyjamas, really – light blue, not a single bit of red or even _pink_ anywhere to be seen – and if it’d been anyone else, she might have thrown something on quickly, but she and Brendan had been through a lot together, even if it hadn’t always been together, and she didn’t really care.

“I arrived just as the storm started up as drizzle, so at least I didn’t risk getting sick. I’d have thought your dad would have you out in the field even in _this_ weather, though.”

Brendan snorted. May noted, amused, that her mother rolled her eyes at the comment, too.

“Oh, he _almost_ did. I escaped, though. Mum’s threatening to borrow one of my bigger Pokémon to sit in front of the door, so he can’t go out and study what ‘field Pokémon not suited to torrential weather do and how they react’.” He shook his head, smiling.

May couldn’t help but laugh, and something inside of her eased up. It felt like far too long since she’d just laughed like that, about normal things – even though logically, she knew that it hadn’t been all _that_ long at all.

Brendan seemed to remember something, and rummaged around in his bag until he came up with a couple of familiar-looking shapes.

“I brought games! I didn’t know how much you’d been able to catch up with this stuff, what with travelling around more than me nowadays, but I figured that since we can’t battle indoors, this could be the next best thing!”

He was right, of course. She hadn’t had the time – or remembered to – play games like she’d used to. She wondered if she could still trounce him at Melee, like she had in the first week she’d been here, training up her Torchic and exploring the surrounding routes and towns.

As it turned out, she _did_ still trounce him at Melee. It took her a short time to readjust to the controls, but it was like riding a bike. Still, it was all in good fun – and the fun was more in how she beat whichever characters he chose, and figuring out all the different ways and means in a fighting system that was not at all the same as when she fought with her team.

It was a break. It was totally _different_. There wasn’t any talk of saving the world or Champion business or infuriating people in red. She could pretend she was eighteen again and not knowing what was ahead of her, the rain coming in from the Olivine docks just like it used to.

Maybe when the storm died off, she could go pester Archie. He’d probably be pleasantly surprised to find that she wanted to trade insults about their favourite scientist.

It was evening again soon enough, and since her mum said that she didn’t mind cooking the extra, Brendan said he wouldn’t mind staying longer.

They went back upstairs, the warm smell of pasta with fish making its way through the house. A welcome change from the meals they served at the Pokémon centres, and whatever she was usually able to scrounge together out of her bag at her secret base.

She missed the next time there was a knock at the door, the sounds of the game turned up to high, covering it up entirely.

…

As it turned out, Mrs. Maple herself was the only one left who could hear the door – and even then, she almost missed it.

She left the kitchen with the heat turned down low, and went to the door, not knowing who to expect – it could have been the professor, or his wife, or any number of their other neighbours.

So when she opened the door, she certainly wasn’t expecting a man in red and black, with sopping wet red hair, and an exhausted looking Crobat that was holding onto its trainer as a perch.

“Mrs. Maple?” he said, and it was then that she realised just how formal and polite he was trying to be even when shivering and cold, and that she was sure that she knew his face from somewhere – and well, at that.

She nodded, and let him in. More because it wouldn’t be right to let anyone, former criminal who her daughter was currently in a falling out with or not, get hypothermia. She went over to the kitchen to put the kettle on, expecting that the man was in need of a warm drink.

“Mrs. Maple,” the man started again. “I need to talk with your daughter. May. I need to see her.”

“Well,” she started slowly, carefully. “She is here, but she told me quite plainly that she didn’t want to see or talk to anyone in red. I’m guessing that means your lot. Now, I don’t know what it is that would cause that kind of reaction. Would you, Maxie?”

There was an instant in which the man seemed to collapse in on himself, but it was gone so quickly that she was left wondering if she’d even seen it. Then he was bristling at his full height, although the effect was undermined by his still sodden state and the fact that he wasn’t really any taller than her.

“That’s why I’m _here_. I want to- I need to see her.” His expression turned sour, and his eyes flicked away to the photos that were visible from where they stood, of all the family together.

May had been a little girl in that one. Norman had been trying to feed a wild Mareep, but by the time the photo had been taken, six year old May had found herself a perfect spot right on top of the fluffy sheep Pokémon, spread out and enjoying the soft – if electric – wool.

She glanced back from the photo to the man who was asking for her daughter right now, only to find that his gaze was still held by the image, and his face had softened.

She sighed, and wondered if she was doing the right thing.

…

They were interrupted from the game by her mother coming in and asking for her help with something. She said that it wouldn’t take too long, so she paused the fight and went out into the hall.

She hadn’t thought she’d be given an armful of blankets, though. Or taken quietly aside.

“There’s a man who wants to see you downstairs,” she was told. She didn’t need to know more than that to have a suspicion of who it might be, but at the same time the very suspicion made her confused. “He’s come all this way. He’s _drenched._ I know you said you don’t want to talk to him right now, but you also know what I say about bad words, and bad feeling.”

May did, and she hung her head.

 _Bad feelings only fester if you let bad words linger too long._ They’d been something she usually lived by.

“Now, either I’m going to go down there and give the man having hot chocolate with his Crobat these nice, warm blankets, or you are.”

She held the pile of neatly folded blankets and towels patiently, until May took them with a sigh.

She shuffled down the stairs, scowling, and looked around for the source of her misery. He wasn’t that hard to spot – even drenched, he looked like someone had stuck a stop light in the middle of her living room

She tried to keep a straight face at the mental image. She was trying to be _angry_ at him, and this wasn’t helping.

Nor was the fact that he still looked not only completely miserable, but also that it was hard to take him seriously at all when he was dripping onto the carpet, that hair of his running flat over his face and against his neck.

It was the last bit that made her shove the towels at him. His surprise at seeing her there made her smile. He _should_ be surprised. She’d promised that she didn’t want to talk with him. The least she could do was to make him squirm, just a little.

“May. May, I-”

“Start drying off. _Then_ you can tell me.”

He took a towel, and started rubbing at his head, which helped even less to have her take him seriously when that red hair of his now looked like it was frizzing all over the place from the damp and the static.

“I didn’t come all this way just to half drown myself, you know.”

She nodded. “I didn’t think you’d do something as big as that without a reason. Go on. What is it? Want to tell me exactly what I did wrong again?” He winced. She ignored it. It was probably just the towel tugging on his hair. “Or did you think I needed a reminder about how you can’t _possibly_ be wrong? Because if it’s the latter, you’re really not making a good job of it.”

He’d probably caught a cold just from the flight over here, and despite herself she couldn’t help wondering what the _hell_ he’d been _thinking._

“Actually, for the record I’d like to clarify – ah – none of the above.” He stopped rubbing at his head for long enough to look at her so intently as to make her feel uncomfortable. Even in disarray as he was. “I wanted to… to _apologise._ My behaviour was entirely unnecessary. And I said things that were completely out of line.”

She stared.

“But, as you said, you did not wish to talk, or to so much as see me again. I understand that. However, I could not in good conscience allow that without a few last words.”

Looking away, ashamed of how _she_ had acted, she shook her head, irritated this time at how she could feel a lump in her throat, and she swallowed to make it go away.

“You’re an absolute _idiot_ , you know that, don’t you?”

“I’ve become increasingly aware that I may not be as intelligent in some areas as others, yes. Does that help?”

She finally let a laugh bubble out, and it was worth it – just for the shocked look on his face.

“Keep drying yourself. I’d prefer a dry idiot over a wet and cold one. Or d’you need me to do that for you?”

He laughed, and she paused in grabbing a towel at the rare sound.

“I needn’t have worried. You may look young, but you act more like you’re mothering me.”

“I need to,” she said, shaking her head. “You clearly can’t look after _yourself_. I mean – couldn’t you have taken the boat, or something? I know how you feel about them, but at least then you’d be _dry_.”

“Not at all.” At first, she thought he was just being his stubborn old self. “Not when it would have meant leaving this until later,” he then continued, voice somewhat softer.

Unspoken went the same feelings that she’d been having to deal with, too.

_I don’t think I could stay that angry with you any longer. I don’t think I could stay knowing that you were angry with me, because it made me upset, too._

“If it helps, I’m sorry I blew up over it. It… it wasn’t very mature of me.”

“An interesting turn of phrase, that. I don’t think that you’re aware of it, but – you’re rather beautiful when you erupt. Deadly and dangerous, but beautiful all the same.”


End file.
